What Makes My Soul Soar

This is really putting my heart on my sleeve. Why did I stop singing? When I was a little girl, I would close my bedroom door, put on my Whitney Houston tape and absolutely wail at the top of my lungs. I wanted to be her. So badly. When I sang it was like letting my heart out of my mouth and along with it came a rush of warmth and happiness washing over me like a warm wave. Why did I stop singing?

In high school, I sang in the school choir. It was a pretty big choir. A couple hundred of us. We sang typical choral music. Nothing I would actually listen to on my own. But oh, when those voices swelled around me, the feeling of making music with nothing but the muscles and sinews and breath of our bodies... Somehow the connection between brain and vocal chords working together to make music out of a tune our ears had just learned... I know it sounds trite but it is something of a miracle to me.

So why did I stop singing?

Well, in a nutshell, I grew up. I learned that people were listening to me. My brothers would tease me. I learned that not everyone appreciated the noise coming out of my mouth, on pitch and clear as it was. I realized it didn't move others as it moved me. Then, of course there was a progression of age, and lack of opportunities, and pretty soon I didn't really have anywhere to sing except maybe church on Sundays. But who can sing from the hymnal when you are feeding the little one cheerios and trying to get the big brother to stop pulling his sister's hair? Not me. Half the time I am in the mothers room, nursing.

So. I sing softly, gently, in a very sweet breathy voice to my babies. I sing every song I know, not just lullabyes. Hymns and choral music, classic rock and r&b. Country and folk and even sometimes tunes I make up to the words of famous poems. It seems to soothe them. They seem to like it. As Holly's warm breath evens out, and her eyes flutter closed and she gently breaks the suction and falls asleep, she smiles. She snuggles in a little closer, comforted by the gentle sounds her ears hear and the soft vibrations of sound waves she feels against her cheek.

No, it isn't as powerful as Orff's Carmina Burana. But she likes it; she seems to like it just fine. Someday, maybe I will find a place to use that voice again. But I guess it's being put to pretty good use for now.